“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into my hair like a vow. “This time, I won’t let the world take you from me.”
My body warms from the inside out. His breath is warm against my ear. The world feels frozen around us, but for the first time since this nightmare began, I feel the faintest edge of safety.
Even if danger hunts me down, even if Anton has me tied upside-down in a warehouse somewhere, Damian has me. He’s holding me like he truly has me.
Chapter 19 - Damian
Snow follows us like a second shadow as we make our way across the bridge. Our breaths plume in the cold, merging for a moment before disappearing again. It feels symbolic in a way I’m too tired to unpack.
I lead Harper through a narrow side entrance of a residential tower. Iosif’s safe apartment is designed like a bunker disguised as a penthouse.
From the outside it’s another gray block in a city built from concrete and contradiction. Inside, it’s all encrypted locks and reinforced windows, cameras disguised as antique sconces. And a view of the river so clear the city lights look rehearsed.
Iris is already working. Her glasses are pushed up on her head, fingers flying over a tablet, hair braided back like she expected an ambush on the way here. Iosif stands behind her, arms crossed, jaw grinding as though he’s chewing through the consequences of being loyal to me.
They look up when we enter.
Harper moves ahead of me, still holding the drive like a relic rescued from a temple. She places it on the table between Iris’s scattered files.
“It’s all there,” she says. Her voice hasn’t recovered yet from the adrenaline, neither have her hands. The slight tremor is still there, subtle but not invisible. I place my hand at the small of her back. The action comes naturally to me now.
Iris hooks up the drive. The screen floods with data. The hum of the laptop fills the silence.
Then Iris breathes out, a slow exhale that sounds like a verdict.
“It’s real.”
Iosif says something under his breath, a word I haven’t heard since we were teenagers sneaking vodka in the back alleys. I pull a chair closer.
“Show me.”
She taps open a file.
Anton’s voice fills the room—recorded, distorted slightly, but unmistakably him.
“…full immunity through disclosure… internal hierarchy… leverage over the Ignatov Council… surrendering evidence on all active operations…”
I grip the edge of the table. Harper goes still beside me, like someone just turned her bones to stone.
Iris switches to another file. Encrypted messages and legal drafts. A schedule.
Anton’s offer to international agencies in exchange for a clean slate.
He’s selling us out. The entire Bratva hierarchy he swore loyalty to—even the ones who still believe he’s just… angry, not treacherous.
Iosif’s voice is a rumble when he says, “he’s going to expose everything.Everyone.”
“Not if we stop him first,” I say.
Iris keeps reading.
“There’s more. He’s relocating the master server at dawn tomorrow. Once it’s moved, we’ll lose the physical access point. And once it connects to the external agency hub…” She trails off.
Harper wipes a hand across her mouth. She’s pale beneath the street grime and flickering light. I stand up.
“We hit the server before it moves.”
Iosif lifts a brow.
